Work Text:
Look for the girl with the broken smile
Ask if she wants to stay a while
“What do you think it will be like?” My head is hanging off the side of Imogen’s cot in the small space between our beds, enjoying the blood rushing to my head as I watch her sharpening her sword.
It’s quiet in the common room right now as most of the cadets are at dinner. Food was the last thing on our minds tonight; Bodhi was on kitchen duty this week and he put aside a couple of scones and ham sandwiches for us, but with everything going on and thinking of the day we have ahead, I doubt I would be able to keep any food down — considering that the food is lying on a napkin on the little table between our beds, untouched, Imogen probably feels the same.
“Hm?” Imogen hums, not raising her eyes from the whetstone, her hand working swiftly and efficiently. She has already cleaned and sharpened all her daggers, all thirteen of them, including the one she keeps under her pillow every night (I hope she’s careful with it and doesn’t cut herself on the blade in her sleep because that thing is fucking sharp).
“Being bonded to a dragon, I mean,” I clarify.
Her hand freezes on the sword for a heartbeat — just a second, before she resumes her work and silence stretches between us. I’ve gotten used to this, to Gen hiding between the walls she raises around herself whenever she feels uncomfortable or when something hits a nerve — and I learned not to take it personally; she’s been through a lot and I know she is making an effort with me as it is, allowing me to get closer to these walls than most people.
On our first night in the Quadrant, after the squad assignments, I remember how she disappeared for some time while the rest of us were herded around the Quadrant to get uniforms and shown to the common rooms – our homes until Threshing because only bonded cadets get individual rooms (gods, just one more day until we get those freaking rooms!). When she returned, almost three hours later, the good beds had all been already claimed in the girls room and I chuckled at the sight of her face as she stood in the doorway, watching as that realization settled in. When I finally waved my hand to get her attention and show her to the bed I saved for her, the disappointment was replaced by this strange look that I’ve received from her countless times for the months that followed — a mix of confusion, surprise, hesitation…
Thinking back on that moment, I can only assume what she probably thought of me. I was a strange girl who suddenly showed up on the Parapet and then some coincidences brought us together — we both survived the walkway of death and then we somehow ended up in the same squad. I took it as proof that I was right, that some invisible force wanted to bring us together, but Imogen? We never talked about it, but it was pretty clear that she thought it was all a funny coincidence and she was merely curious to see how long this “friendship” would last, waiting and expecting the inevitable fallout.
I am not saying there haven’t been days when I was bothered by this reluctance — oh, there have certainly been! But I understood where she was coming from and, in her position, I would have probably kept everyone at a safe distance as well — so I decided not to push her; I never asked her to tell me about her past, always made sure not to press when she would close herself off and ignore my questions when the subject was sensitive for her.
And in spite of all those things, I love being in her company. She is funny and even if she doesn’t open up about herself that much (or at all), I’ve started to notice her caring side — saving me a seat next to her and making sure to get me a cup of coffee with lots of cream and sugar and something sweet every time I wake up late after a night of drinking or some fun time with second years, showing me fighting techniques and training with me after classes… she even introduced me to her best friends, which might be something insignificant for most, but with Imogen? That’s a big fucking step because it’s clear to anyone who has eyes how protective she is of those three boys — and Bodhi admitted to me on one of the night the three of us were at one of the courtyard parties (and Gen left to blackmail Xaden for some churram) that he’s (pleasantly) surprised about it because, according to him, Imogen lost her friend-making skills somewhere in kindergarten.
And even with all these long silences… they don’t feel heavy or uncomfortable to me. I usually just take them as a silent request for a subject change and I don’t mind that one bit. Growing up, I didn’t exactly have many friends to talk to and even with those few I was somewhat closer, I rarely felt like I could speak openly because there was always this fear that whatever I said might be relayed to those not-so-nice kids in our class and come back to bite me in the ass. But with Imogen… I feel like I can talk about anything with her (and believe me, I talk her ear off sometimes with the conquest of the week and silly stuff like that – she usually rolls her eyes when I go into too much detail, but she listens and that's something new to me) and she laughs and discusses things with me and gods, she's an amazing gossip partner.
So I expect this question to be avoided in a similar manner and I am trying to come up with a change of subject, when Gen surprises me by muttering, “My sister used to say it's the death of any sense of privacy.”
I almost lose my balance and fall on my head when I hear it. It's the first time Imogen ever spoke about her family and I never knew she had a sister, let alone a rider sister! I have so many questions and things I want to say, but just as one would do with a scared wild animal, I keep my mouth shut, trying not to spook her back into hiding behind her high walls.
“The moment a dragon decides to bond with you, they become a part of you, the strongest bond in your life – more powerful than any family bond or romantic interest. Your life is tied to theirs, so if they fall, you fall,” She makes a pause here, before she sighs and shakes her head, as if that can banish the thought from her mind. I want to ask if that happened to her sister, but I know it's better to allow her to share whatever she feels comfortable with. “And they are terribly nosy, butting into your thoughts to offer their input even on matters that have nothing to do with them. Braelyn always complained about that.”
I already know about all that from my parents and I doubt there is anyone in Navarre who doesn't know the saying “A rider without their dragon is dead.” As for gaining a new roommate in my mind…
“At least it means we will never be alone again,” I find myself saying. Maybe this is why I actually wanted to become a rider, maybe the lonely kid in me craved the camaraderie and having such a bond – unbreakable and permanent. For as long as I live, I will always have someone in my corner, no matter what.
Gen bites her lip and gives me a small nod, “Yeah, that's an upside if you look at it from that angle,” She sighs. “But then again… all that depends on surviving tomorrow and a dragon being stupid enough to want to put up with us.”
“I won you over, I am confident my charming personality will work on a dragon too.” I wave my hand with an air of nonchalance, but I don't hold that appearance for long before I burst into laughter.
“Oh, so I am grumpier than a dragon now?” Imogen challenges, raising an eyebrow at me.
“You said it, not me,” I manage between laughs. Gen rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh, but her shoulders shake with unmistakable laughter only a second later.
And, just like that, the tension from earlier is lifted.
A few moments later, when we settle down, Imogen extends her hand, wordlessly asking me to hand over my own weapons. That forces me to push myself back up, enjoying the delicious dizziness that follows – this part is not as fun, but I soldier on and gather my weapons in a little pile that I hand to my best friend because she is better at this than I am and the last thing I need tomorrow is a blunt labrys.
Just so I don’t feel useless, I take one of the daggers from Imogen’s pile, turning it over in my hands, pretending to inspect the intricate designs carved into the hilt – runes, I know, although I haven't had the courage to ask Imogen what they mean until now. This is certainly a question she would avoid, seeing as runes are kind of forbidden in Navarre – but maybe someday, when that wall she keeps around herself won't be as high and thick, I will ask her about it.
Until then, I settle on another curiosity – which I am almost convinced will be met with the same silent treatment, but it doesn't hurt to try, seeing as she already opened up a bit today. Maybe she feels the need to talk about this and just needs a nudge in this direction. “What kind of dragon did your sister have?”
This might be my lucky night and I seriously consider going into the common room to see if there are any betting games going on tonight (some pocket money wouldn’t hurt) when Imogen actually answers. “Orange Swordtail.” Then, with her eyes still set on the blade of my axe, she goes on. “His name was Jyst, and if you think I’m grumpy, you should have met him.”
“I thought brown dragons are the grumpy ones,” I try to joke, throwing the dagger in the air and catching it by the tip. “Isn’t Garrick always complaining about that?”
At the mention of his name, Imogen’s hand freezes for a second — just for a moment, barely noticeable, but I store away this reaction in my mental folder of evidence for later. I have my suspicions about my friend and the handsome Squadleader, but I am biding my time until I am certain (and until I get Bodhi alone so I can question him on the topic a bit as well). Besides, I know better than to push my luck with two big reveals in one night, so for now I content myself with learning as much as I can about her family.
“Yeah, he says Chradh is grumpy, but if I had to deal with Garrick’s stupid ass and know every idiotic thought that goes through that thick head of his, I’d be grumpy too. Jyst’s grumpiness had nothing to do with Braelyn, or I don’t think so.”
I smile, amused at her very detailed description of Garrick’s intelligence. I wonder what it’s like, having such close friends, the kind you’ve known since childhood like their little group? The kind you know you can call idiots fifty times a day and know they’d still be there for you… I wonder if I’ll have that kind of relationship with anyone, but I’m afraid that boat has sailed for me — such bonds form during childhood, right?
“That’s her name? Braelyn?” I ask.
“Captain Braelyn Katrina Cardulo.” Imogen nods, her voice taking a solemn tone.
“Damn, a Captain. Impressive,” I whistle. “You Tyrs are born for leadership, aren’t you? What do they feed you?”
Imogen shakes her head, an amused kind of smile on her face for the briefest moment. “She was an overachiever. Even worse than Xaden, if you can believe that. Section Leader in her second year and Wingleader in her third. She was promoted to Captain during the Apostasy.” She pretends to inspect the blade, but I get the feeling she is trying to avoid looking at me as she speaks. “Although Navarrians probably don’t recognize her rank now.”
“She sounds impressive,” I say, amazed. I’ve had numerous riders in my family, so I know how hard these ranks are given, so for a twenty-something girl to be a Captain…
“Everything about her was,” Imogen agrees, her voice growing more and more sorrowful. I wonder when was the last time she got to tell someone about her older sister. “She was annoyingly perfect — smart, bold, confident, gorgeous, decisive… She even got one of those crazy rare signets no one ever gets, she could make people do anything she told them to…”
I frown, trying to piece these facts together. My parents used to hide anything that was happening around the time of the Tyrrish rebellion — what I’ve heard Imogen and her friends call the Apostasy —, but I’ve heard kids at school talking about it during special training for the Quadrant, and then when we were learning about signets and dragons with Kaori… There’s been only one charm-speaker in the last two or three hundred years and he didn’t tell us the name, but… “She was the Puppeteer,” I whisper, so surprised that the dagger I’ve been toying with slips from my hand and stabs the bed, leaving a clear hole in the sheets.
Imogen wrinkles her nose at the nickname. “Yeah, I had no idea people still knew about that until Kaori mentioned it.”
“Imogen that’s—”
“In the past,” She finished my sentence curtly, her piercing green eyes meeting my gaze — there is no anger there, just sorrow; this discussion opened many unhealed wounds. “Besides, all that specialness didn’t make a difference in the end, she still died.”
“How?” I ask softly, realizing a second too late that I’ve broken that unwritten rule not to push her in moments like this, just to accept what she’s willing to share. “I’m sorry, I–”
“Executed by dragonfire,” My friend clarifies, putting down the dagger she’s been working on. “After the Apostasy, like everyone else. And the bastards made sure we watched.”
She leans back against the headboard of the bed and picks up the last dagger in my pile, as if that last part is nothing shocking. Fucking gods! The Rebellion ended five years ago, so she must have been no older than sixteen, a child! What kind of monsters would force kids to witness the execution of their parents?! I can’t even begin to comprehend how it must have been for her, for all of them… and I am racking my brain for something to say to her, but the words that leave my mouth are not comforting. “Gods, Gen, after that… you still want to bond a dragon?”
Her piercing green gaze meets mine, assessing, pondering. “Why do you want to become a dragon rider, Hollis?” She asks, clearly deflecting. She always asks me questions to avoid my own.
“Because my entire family has dragons, because I grew up around them and I’ve always craved that kind of bond.” Because this way I hope I’ll never be alone again. “My parents, some of my uncles and cousins… There is even a painting of one of my great aunts and her dragon above our fireplace!”
Gen hums in thought, her attention returning to the dagger in her lap. “My uncle tried to get his dragon to sit for one as well, but Lystra didn’t like that idea much. I don’t know how he thought he could get an orange daggertail, the most unpredictable kind of dragon, to pose for hours.”
“Seems like orange dragons run through your family,” I point out, amused by the coincidence.
She huffs a laugh, “Guess we’ll find out tomorrow, won’t we?”
“It’d fit your personality. Bold, spontaneous, passionate…” The hardest to bond and the most loyal at the same time — fitting, considering how hard it’s been to earn Imogen’s trust (an ongoing battle, unless I shot myself in the leg tonight). Judging by the small smirk she gives me, I might still have a chance.
Gen extends me the dagger, along with the rest of my weapons, helping me sheathe the daggers and the short sword. I can feel her hesitation once we’re done, fidgeting with the edges of the stabbed mattress — good thing we’ll get assigned room tomorrow (or we won’t need beds at all, seeing as the alternative is death).
“We don’t have a choice,” She finally whispers, after a long pause. “About conscription I mean.”
I frown. “Yeah, well, I know we all have to get conscripted at twenty, but you could have chosen –”
“No, I couldn’t. It was part of the deal,” She clarifies. “For our parents’ rebellion, we are forced to come into this death trap. All of us. Although I would have made the same choice regardless.”
I freeze and I must look stupid right now, with my eyes blown wide and my mouth hanging open, but just… Who the fuck does that? I mean, surely, Command issued the order, but still! “That’s bananas!” I exclaim, trying and failing to shake off my shock. “Why would–”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Imogen shrugs, but the way her eyes linger on the pile of weapons next to her tells me she has an idea. The way she sleeps with a dagger under her pillow…
I meet her eyes again, but before I can ask about it any further, we are interrupted by the sound of steps and voices in the corridor — there goes our privacy. And I know I can’t talk about this kind of stuff with an audience, it’s a miracle Imogen says so much as it is.
She stands up, stretching. “Guess we’ll see tomorrow if they succeed.”
̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙
It’s everything I’ve been dreaming of and then more — that’s the only way I can describe the feeling of flying.
I’ve been complaining a lot during those extra hours spent in the gym every night when Garrick Tavis would torture Imogen, Bodhi and I (and truth be told, I still think he drew some kind of sadistic pleasure from that), but I vow the moment we are airborne to thank the second year for it. I am riding on top of a massive, powerful, ancient being who has no qualms about letting me fall to my death if I can’t keep my seat on her scales and I owe it to that arrogant ass.
It’s exhilarating — the rush of power, the wind whipping my face as we take to the skies, dancing through the clouds, the realization that I did it! And my dragon… it’s breathtaking how the sunlight reflects on her emerald green scales, how her strong wings seem to command the sky with every beat. Strong, imposing, intimidating. Godlike .
“ It’s always amusing to see how your human brains try to accommodate to it, ” The same voice that ordered me earlier to get up in the valley comments, the first words she’s uttered to me — in my head — since she launched us to the skies. “ It never gets old, getting compared to a god. Please, go on. ”
I remember what Imogen said last night, about how bonding is the death of any sense of privacy — the thought that my own mind doesn’t belong to me alone anymore is something that’ll take some getting used to, but at the same time… there is another thought that pushes forward — I am not alone. Not anymore. Never again.
“I’m sorry,” I say out loud, because I am not sure if she’d hear me if I only thought of the words. But then again, can she hear me over the wind?
“ I can hear your well-enough, Quinn Hollis, ” That same ancient and feminine voice assures me. She turns her long neck to look at me, her golden eye pinning me down. “ I know everything there is to know about you. That’s why I chose you. ”
“ I am thankful for the honor, ” I say, thinking about the most formal and respectful thing to reply with.
My mind is filled with an amused laughter, like liquid warmth coursing through every single one of my nerve endings. “ Too stiff, but you will learn. Now, prepare to land, we are running a bit behind. ”
The field comes into view, dozens of dragons sitting in perfect formation on the crowded field. There are officials already gathered there, watching, waiting, writing down each pair of newly bonded riders and their dragons and I see cadets from the older years stands a few feet away.
I sigh in relief at the sight of some of the pairs when we land — there is Ciana, a girl from my squad, and I spot Eya, Imogen’s friend, in the row before me. Aetos is sitting proudly in the centre of the first row, next to a red dragon — of course he is… Then I spot Bodhi sitting next to a green dragon close to Aetos.
“ Cuir, ” My dragon informs me. “ He was looking to bond with your friend since Presentation, glad to see the boy didn’t disappoint. ”
I jump off her back and walk to her front, still unable to contain my smile. Then, spotting the representative with the list, I am filled with a guilty panic — oh, my mom would bite my head off for this utter lack of manners and disrespect, unless my dragon does it first —
“Calm down, Little One.” That same laughter from earlier. “I’m not going to roast you for not properly introducing yourself. My name is Cruthachd — I doubt you’d be able to retain my lineage right now, so Cruth would suffice for now.”
I freeze. There is no way… surely it’s a coincidence or I didn’t hear correctly, because the alternative is forbidden. I can’t possibly… It’s surely a mistake somewhere…
“ Breathe, ” My dragon reminds me, gentler than I’d have expected. “ There is no mistake. Now, collect yourself because that human with the list is coming. ”
“ No… if you were bonded to my great-aunt… they won’t allow it… they will– ”
This time, Cruth’s voice is sharper and lacking that earlier gentleness, more commanding. Growing up in a military family, I instinctively react to it, straightening my back. “ We don’t need the permission of humans. You are mine, Quinn Hollis, and no human can decide otherwise. ”
I am still freaking out internally and I’m pretty sure my voice shakes when I speak Cruth’s name to the cadet with the list, but the claim fills me with a special kind of warmth, a sense of belonging that I’ve never felt before. For now, the matter is not remarked upon by anyone and Cruth informs me after the cadet leaves that even if they notice that I’m related to her previous rider, the blood ties are not close enough to pose a problem, so I should probably be fine — that probably is not entirely reassuring considering one of the consequences such a bond poses is losing your sanity.
“ Your other friend made it back, ” Cruth announces me, her golden eyes trailing an orange hue of color that crosses the sky with spectacular speed. “ You’d probably want to take a few steps back. Lystra has always been a show-off. ”
“ Lystra? ” I ask, looking up at my dragon to make sure I am not losing my mind. If my family ties are relatively further away, Imogen bonding her uncle’s dragon would surely not go unnoticed.
There is a longer pause this time before the green dragon replies. Next to us, Imogen and her dragon made it to the ground, my friend looking unbothered even though the entire maneuver made me nauseous just watching. “ I probably shouldn’t have told you that. It’s been so long since I’ve had… nevermind. ” The sound that follows is somewhere between a sigh and a groan, marking her irritation clearly.
The roll-keeper approaches Imogen and her dragon, a healthy dose of hesitation in their steps as she approaches the orange dragon. I watch as my friend straightens her back, pushing her goggles aside as if it’s the most natural thing to do, like she’s born for it — and she is, she really is. I know she’ll be a formidable rider — if Command allows her bond. They are looking for excuses to get rid of the marked ones, that much is clear, even if Imogen didn’t say it exactly, they’d surely jump at the occasion.
“For the record, please tell me the name of the dragon who chose you.”
“Glane,” Imogen says confidently.
My shoulders sag with relief watching the roll-keeper walk away — she’s safe, they are safe. They didn’t even bat an eye at it and no one contested it. “ Will the dragons comment on this? ” I ask my dragon.
“ No. They don’t care to get into human affairs and Lystra’s choice is hers alone. We won’t meddle. ” I lean against her green scales, feeling lightheaded. “ I take it you won’t endanger the Pink One’s safety either? ”
“ I’d never do that. She’s my best friend. ” And it’s true, I realize. There are a lot of things that Imogen doesn’t tell me and I know she won’t bring up her dragon’s real identity unless she really has to, but that’s alright. She’s entitled to her secret — friendship doesn’t mean complete transparency, it’s about who shows up to support you. And she’s it for me, I’ve known it since day one.
Cruth dips her head to get to my level and I almost imagine her eyes shining with the same pride that I feel in her voice as she says, “
I knew I made a good choice, Loyal One.
”